Malak alhaq
by FireFeline
Summary: Malik has started to attend school, but not all is well. He can’t let go and move on. The students can’t get over that he is different and the problems only start there. A little hinting at yaoi and a dark path can make for a interesting mix. Please r


Description: Malik has started to attend school, but not all is well. He can't let go and move on. The students can't get over that he is different and the problems only start there. A little hinting at yaoi and a dark path can make for a interesting mix. Please read and review.

Warning: This fic deals a great deal with religion(s)/cults/zealots, yaoi/shonin-ai, suicide and violence/dark if you don't like/ want to read about/ or not comfortable with any of the topics please feel free to go back and select and different fic. Thank you for reading the warning!

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh, the world of said series or the characters; I am just a humble fic writer!

AN: After a week long debate and in depth discussion of religion and tollerance this fic idea came to mind. I think I will keep it relatively short. I'm not out to bash anyone's beliefs! So its not too late if you think you might be offended to turn back now. Also as a side note /text/ is Malik and /-/text/-/ is Yami Malik. Just thought I'd let you all know before hand.

Malak al-haq

by: FireCatRich

An ordinary class room filled with average students. Uniforms, conformity demanding the surrender of one's self to be accepted. Thirty of so students forced together, each in identical desks all stared like mindless dolls. A cross necklace, pentagram, bidi, anhk, star, crystal, stone; symbols of how everyone was free to think differently, believe differently within the tolerance of society. Quiet shifting and whispers masked their sinister nature. Their personal thoughts fighting, grappling with one another, under a skin deep ideal of tolerance.

A new student had stepped into the battle field. Every man for himself. Every god, goddess, state of mind, or ideal of itself, themselves. Their promises and vows of not killing, being kind, being tolerant only extending to those who were of the same, alike, identical. His tanned skin and blonde hair already set him apart. His vibrant violet eyes met with brown, blue, green, gray, but found no kin here. The teacher, the pseudo ruler of this domain stated his name. The class answering in a half-hearted-forced-smile hello. As he quietly took his seat, farthest from the windows, farthest from the light, he could feel them watching.

/-/You know, they hate you already./-/

/Everyone hates me... us now. Everyone has a right to./

Malik answered his dark without a second thought. He was the only one he knew here. Hate, though a strong word seemed to fit their stoic glares. What had happened only too few days ago to forget played back in his mind. His path, his chosen way had been foiled and yet in some way been twist to a cruel fate. His yami was still connected to him. The mental wound left by their separation healed quickly enough, sealing them back together. The shadows could only do so much in separating essential the same person. The shame of the realization crushing his will until it brushed suicidal thoughts.

Class came and went. The school day a hazy blur of unknown faces, names, and places. The last period, it was almost over, was physical education. With his back turned to the wall, Malik hurriedly pulled off his t-shirt and throw on his uniform in the hope that the scrawled symbols which were set into his skin not too long ago would go unnoticed. Weary eyes watched him. The blind hated, the blissful ignorance seething withing them a small band of students had taken it upon themselves to purge this heathen from their holy school. All they needed to know was he wasn't one of them.

Leaving on quieted feet, Malik walked across the campus. Putting on a forced smile, he greeted the Pharaoh and his followers. Varying degrees of smiles and greetings rippled through the group as Yugi was nothing less than his spritly, friendly self.

/-/You know that they don't trust you. Not even the Pharaoh's apparent forgiveness rings true./-/ The phantom mocked him from the depths of his mind. /-/What makes you think they aren't waiting for you to drop your guard/-/ A space within Malik's mind cleared to manifest the deranged spirit in a relaxed state. /-/You can ignore me if you like, but that wont change anything. Without the rod I can't take control of your body, I don't want you dead at the moment. I rather like being alive, if it could be called that./-/ His fingertips grazed the recesses of Malik's memories.

Malik said his good byes and excused himself from the group of close friends as he tried not to pay attention to the past which was being uprooted. Yesterday, two days or a full week perhaps? It didn't matter. He wouldn't fail again. Silently opening the door to the apartment he shared with his sister, the oppressive stillness assured him he was home alone.

Setting his book bag on the kitchen counter, he spied the knives which stood ready for used in their wood block. Their black handles begging to be touched. Sliding one from it's wooden home, he eyed the blade. Clean, sharp, smooth, fitting neatly in his hand, the instrument was approved. Disappearing into his bed room, he sat purposefully on the floor, near the center of the room. The silvered knife poised at his wrists, his hand trembling as he tried to affirm his resolution. The gold bands that seemed more like a part of him were missing, cast aside in preparation.

To just die and not have to see them look at him like they do. The distrust, the pity, the shame, he could see them all screaming in their eyes when their mouths were quiet. He was a murderer. It was justice to die. The blade bit into his wrist, the blood pouring forth. A mumbled apology to his absent sister for the stains upon the carpet he would cause passed through his lips. Gripping the crimson blade in his opposite hand, he finished his task and lay upon the floor. The burden of the guilty weighed down upon him.

/I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'm sorry/ He cried through his mental link, finding his throat taut and eyes watering. His darkness was the only one who listened. The shadow silhouetted in the hidden caverns of his mind, reached out to grant a bittersweet gift. The wounds sealed of their own accord, the spirit was not ready to go down with the ship just yet. The tears spilled over as he lay alive.

/-/Despite how I love to see you bleed.../-/ the spirit paused as though observing the blood seep from the wounds /-/...oh, yes I do love to see it. I'm not ready give it up this world for your pathetic weakness./-/ The spirit spat vehemently. /-/If you wanted to die so badly then you shouldn't have tried that idiotic self sacrificing stunt. Bastard pharaoh saw it as you reforming. Trying to make amends for everything, blah blah. Of corse, he bought into it and had to spoil my fun. If I had had my way, you'd be dead or at least close enough to it and I would be ruler of the world. Everyone would go home happy./-/ He laughed psychotically, the dark mocking the teen as he lay with his back against the floor. Wrapping ghostly arms around him, his darkness' laugh wavered to a chuckle. /-/Can you live for me/-/ The question dripped with sarcasm, a foe-caring of someone who might be mistaken for something more than a friend.

The spirit ran his shadows hands over the newly formed scars of the other's wrist, his face brushing lightly against the sensitive hallow of his throat. A life he depended on wholly for his existence lay prostrate upon the floor, as though the stillness would bring death back to claim them. Violet eyes stared up at the ceiling, their clarity and hue something the spirit knew he did not have.

/-/Just live./-/ His weightless form lingered as he whispered. The insanity tipping the corners of his lips, bring him to smile against his light's neck. Fading back into nothingness, the spirit evaporated returning to the sanctuary of the mind. The lonely darkness closed in around Malik. Although in a sense he was not alone, though the feeling not dulled his off-kilter company.

"Just live?" he spoke it aloud. The darkness withholding its counsel...

AN: I might or might not continue this. Depends on reviews, if they want more or just to leave it at that. Thanks for reading and please review!


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